


Afterschool Special

by MissAudreyHorney



Series: Worth The Wait [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, Dom Jim "Chief" Hopper, F/M, Heavy Petting, Intimidation, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAudreyHorney/pseuds/MissAudreyHorney
Summary: Having been so rudely interrupted during their first encounter, modern!Hopper and Reader arrange a second, more private meeting.Modern AU, sequel to "The Big Game".
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper & Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper & You, Jim "Chief" Hopper/Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper/You
Series: Worth The Wait [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866694
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Afterschool Special

You call Jim Hopper on Monday afternoon in between classes. His voice is even deeper and sexier over the phone than you remember it sounding the night before. He seems happy to hear from you and you try to hide how giddy you are about it. Sensing that the attraction between you two is very mutual, you don’t hesitate to set up a meeting. He tells you that he has Wednesday off from work, and for a second, you seriously consider ditching all your classes to spend the entire day with him. Instead, you agree to meet up at his house at four o’clock, which gives you enough time to go home and change after school.

Normally on a date, you would prefer to wear a dress but the winter chill in the February air sadly prevents that. Hopefully you won’t feel out of place wearing a heavy sweater and a pair of jeans to wherever it is he wants to take you.

The address he gave seems to be out in the middle of nowhere and multiple times you wonder if the GPS navigation is telling you to go in the wrong direction. Eventually, you find the place and it’s not so much a house as it is a cabin in the woods. It almost looks abandoned except for his car parked out front.

Any misgivings you have about the place are dispelled when you see Hopper standing on the porch and smoking as he waits for you. All your friends complain about guys who smoke, and that they hate the smell, but not you. You think it’s sexy and you even enjoy the smell.

A smile spreads across his handsome face when he sees you and it gets wider when you step out of the car. “Come on in, sweetheart,” he greets you with a white cloud billowing out from his mouth.

Anticipation rushes through your veins. When you last saw each other, and when you spoke on the phone, there seemed to be a promise of more, a promise to finish what he started when he came up to your room. You know that something will happen today, you’re just not sure how or when.

Once you reach the top of the steps, he says “It’s open. I’ll be in in a minute” as the unfiltered cigarette dangles between his lips.

Opening the door slowly, you let yourself in then put your purse down and look around. The cabin is… _rustic_. None of the furniture matches. Some of it looks to be as old as you are. There’s a decent red sofa but it’s covered in a patchwork quilt. There’s a plaid chair against the wall and it too has a blanket draped across the top, one that’s knitted or perhaps crocheted. The only things to indicate that you haven’t arrived here in a time machine are the flat screen tv on the wall and a new Apple computer on an old wooden desk.

Hopper steps into the room a moment later. “Why don’t you take your coat off and stay awhile?” He touches your back as he walks past you to go into the kitchen.

“Oh, um, okay.” You suppose he wants to talk a little bit or perhaps finish something up before you leave. Hanging your coat up on the rack, you notice a small pair of tennis shoes on the floor. “Do you live here alone?”

“No, my daughter lives here with me.”

_His daughter?_ Gosh, Hopper really is a DILF. You follow him into the kitchen and your brain starts to connect some dots. “Is she the reason why you left so suddenly on Sunday night?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says as he takes an ice tray out of the freezer.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad it wasn’t your wife.”

“Oh no, I’ve been divorced for a long time now,” he assures you.

Your eyes roam over Hopper’s large frame while you watch him pop the cubes out of the tray and fill it back up again. He’s wearing jeans and a blue flannel shirt, with the top two buttons undone, and a navy henley underneath. His scent of cigarettes and soap makes it seem as if he must have smoked immediately after getting out of the shower.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea of ripping his clothes off right here and now, forgoing any previous plans you might have for your date. That’s where you’re hoping this will all lead anyway so what’s wrong with cutting to the chase?

In an attempt to restrain yourself, you bring up the one subject that will take your mind out of the gutter. “How did you meet my parents?”

“They brought one of their cars to my shop. I’m a mechanic.”

The attempt proves feeble as your mouth instantly begins to water at the mental image of Jim Hopper bending over the engine of a car, sticking out his cute butt in his Wrangler jeans, his hands and his face getting all dirty and sweaty.

“Can I make you a drink?” he offers, getting a glass off the shelf. “You are old enough to drink, right?”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m old enough.”

“I don’t have to check your ID, do I?” He winks at you and it’s as charming as it is corny.

“You can if you want to,” you respond.

“No, I believe you.” He opens a bottle of Jack Daniels and lifts it above his glass.

“Wait, you’re making a drink now? When are we gonna go?”

He puts the bottle on the counter. “Go where?”

“Is this it?” you ask, slightly stunned.

“Is what it?” Deep ridges form on Hopper’s forehead as he raises his eyebrows in irritation.

“I thought we were going to go on a date,” you explain.

His features soften as he chuckles at you. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He gleefully pours the whiskey into his glass.

“So we’re just going to stay here and…?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a smug grin. “We are.”

Suddenly your idea of tearing his clothes off seems like it would be more welcomed than you had anticipated.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, getting himself a can of Coke out of the refrigerator.

“I’ll have a water.”

Hopper pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to you. “You know this was your idea, right? You didn’t mention anything on the phone about a date.”

“I know, I guess I...assumed we’d go out.” You take a much-needed sip.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he offers in a considerably softer tone than you’ve heard from him thus far.

“No,” you smile at him. “I want to stay.”

He smiles back at you then takes a drink.

“It just would have been nice if you took me out somewhere,” you remark before raising the bottle to your lips again.

“Why beat around the bush? We both already know what we want.” He takes another drink then sets his glass down. “Unless of course, you want us to be seen together,” he adds, moving directly in front of you, with mere centimeters between your bodies.

Your heart starts racing as Hopper glares down at you with a storm churning in his deep blue eyes.

”Maybe you want people to look at us and know that I’m twice your age.” He leans in closer, backing you into the corner of the wooden counter. “Maybe you want to hear them say ‘what’s that dirty old man doing with that beautiful young girl?’” He enunciates every word in a biting tone as if he’s scolding you.

Your bodies are so close together that you can actually feel the heat radiating off of him.

“If that’s what you want, I can take you anywhere. We can leave right now,” he offers in a slightly more casual voice. “I just don’t see any point in wasting time when it’s so _obvious_ what you came here for.”

“What’s that?” you accidentally say in a whisper.

Hopper takes a step back from you. “Go in the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

With a deep inhalation, you slip away from him and run out of the kitchen then immediately run back. “Which one is your bedroom?” you almost shout.

“The one on the left,” he answers, trying not to laugh at your over the top enthusiasm.

You pull the curtain in the doorway so hard that it feels like it might rip away from the rod. Yanking your sweater above your head, you kick off your shoes at the same time.

Lying back on the bed, you can feel how wet he’s already made you. Your body is practically vibrating with excitement as you hear the heavy steps of his boots as he approaches. A shiver runs through you when he enters the room.

“Where were we?” Hopper asks, kneeling onto the foot of the bed.

“You were on top of me,” you recall.

“Uh-huh,” he nods, positioning himself between your open legs.

“And I think you were going to unhook my bra?”

He runs his hands under your t-shirt and up the sides of your body. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I thought we could skip that part.”

He pulls your shirt up over your chest. “Good thinking.”

Without missing a beat, his lips are on your breasts, kissing both of them with his warm, wet, open mouth. Your left nipple hardens as Hopper swirls his tongue around it, making you push your hips into him. His lips close around the bud and begin to suck.

“Oh, Daddy,” you moan, using the title with no regret this time.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he pauses long to speak then immediately begins sucking on your other nipple.

Just like on Sunday, his mouth is rough. Not solely the texture of his scruffy beard against your soft skin, but the ferocity with which he sucks on you and teases you with his teeth. Also just like Sunday, he moves his hand in between your thighs and pushes his palm against the center seam of your jeans.

You hiss when he bites down hard into your flesh, clearly not holding back this time. It’s an exquisite pain that you could easily become addicted to. Your fingernails claw at his shirt when he rolls your nipple between his teeth.

Hopper is working you into a frenzy with the way his hand presses into your jeans, rubbing your pussy through the denim. All the different sensations he’s causing in your body are starting to become too much and you need a release.

“Daddy, please,” you beg breathlessly.

Your nipple pops out from between his lips with a vulgar sound. “Please what?”

You’re unable to answer him as your mouth is too busy moaning while his hand brings back that familiar ache.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he instructs between licks.

“Your f-” you interrupt yourself with another moan. “Your fin-”

“You want my fingers inside you, is that it?” Hopper asks as you grind your crotch into his palm, desperate for all the friction you can get.

“Yes, Daddy!” you finally manage to force out two coherent words.

He unbuttons your jeans and you hear a noise coming from the living room. You both ignore it while he ever so slowly starts to pull down your zipper. Until you hear another noise. Not a noise actually. A voice. Two voices.

Hopper’s hands fall from the zipper, landing on your sides, while his head sinks down in defeat. Your body tenses with worry that whoever it is might come into the room as there’s no door to keep them out.

The two young voices are arguing about something but your brain is far too preoccupied to be able to comprehend the subject of the argument. The only thing you can manage to infer in your current state is that it must be his daughter and one of her friends from school.

Hopper gets up from the bed, leaving your chest fully exposed, and you tug your shirt back down. He has you throbbing with need, and exactly like the last time, your hopes for satisfaction have been quickly dashed by an intrusive family member.

When he goes into the living room to mediate the situation, you sit up and see something on his nightstand that you were in too much of a rush to notice before. Magnum XL condoms, not one but three, the edges of the gold foil still attached to each other.

“For Pete's sake, what’s going on out here?” Hopper demands above the sound of their bickering.

“Mike was staring at Stacey Albright,” his daughter explains.

“No, I wasn’t!” the boy interjects.

“Who’s Stacey Albright?” Hopper asks.

“A girl at our school who stuffs her bra,” she answers.

“She does not stuff her bra,” the boy disputes.

“How do you know that if you weren’t staring?” she raises her voice.

“I was not staring!” the boy yells back.

“Both of you calm down, alright? Jesus.”

Hopper opens the curtain, walks in, and closes it behind him. “Listen, I’m sorry but I gotta-” he begins to apologize in a dejected tone.

“No, I understand,” you reply, cutting him off as you stand up from the bed before pulling on your sweater and shoes. “I should go.”

When you turn to walk out of the room, he grabs onto your upper arms. He doesn’t mean to startle you, it happens solely by accident because he’s so strong. “Look at me,” he suggests, trying to get you to make eye contact.

You gaze up into his gorgeous blue eyes and he starts to smile.

“I still want to see you again,” he says warmly.

“Me too,” you agree, reciprocating his smile.

The kids resume their argument and Hopper rolls his eyes. “Please call me,” he adds before letting go of you.

“I will,” you confirm.

You open the curtain and both of the kids’ mouths fall silent as they watch you emerge from the bedroom. They look to be about fourteen or fifteen-years-old. The girl has brown eyes, long brown hair, and the most perfect skin you’ve ever seen on a teenager. She forces an awkward smile to be polite. The boy is tall and pale, with sharp cheekbones and curly black hair like a rockstar from the ’70s. He glances back and forth between you and Hopper with a confused expression on his face.

“This is my daughter, Elle,” Hopper introduces.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you say back, your voice sounding squeaky with nerves.

“And her boyfriend, Mike,” Hopper continues.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Elle corrects.

“What? That’s not fair!” Mike exclaims.

They start bickering once more and you shoot Hopper a sympathetic look as you grab your coat and purse then slip out the front door. It feels like the universe is conspiring against the two of you, trying to keep you from having sex with each other, like a cosmic cockblock. As you drive away from the cabin, you silently pray that the next time will provide the relief you’re yet again so desperate for.


End file.
